Aftermath
by Little-Miss-Cloudy-Day
Summary: The war is over, the Hunger Games are finished, and Katniss is home at last. She should be happy but she's not. With her sister dead, Gale gone, and Peeta no longer a romantic interest Katniss is alone. No one understands her. Except Haymitch. Is her life worthless? Will she be forever in doubt? Or does he understand her like no other? This is their story. The man behind the bottle
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

That night was no different than the others. And it never would be. The house smelled of cheap alcohol and dead embers. The living room was dank and dark. The stairs creaked as I slowly walked up them. And as I entered my room and lay down in my bed, I told myself the same thing I did every night.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am nineteen years old and I survived the Hunger Games. The war is over. Snow is dead. Coin is dead. They were no different. They were one and the same. We are "free." Prim is dead. My sister is dead. All that's left of me is an existence that was never worthwhile. Gale has abandoned me. Even after all these years. Peeta and I are no more. We were never meant to be. I could never pay him back for all that he has done for me. I am selfish.

Cruel.

Cold.

Ruthless.

Unforgiving.

A monster.

I am me.

I closed my eyes and began to drift off into a world that was my comfort – a sea of no emotion, no memories, and no guilt. And as the full moon's rays drifted down from the heavens onto my face, I let a tear trickle down my cheek. Just like always.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

When I woke, I found that the room was still dark. I glanced over to my window and saw that the night sky was still present. This didn't surprise me. As of late, I've been waking up at unusual hours. It didn't matter. Sleep was becoming more and more irrelevant – it didn't comfort me like it used to. Instead, it was becoming a place where nightmares and dreams coexisted, and when I woke up, it seemed I was more tired than when I had gone to sleep.

I slowly sat up and blinked once, absentmindedly pushing my chestnut locks out of my face. Reluctantly, I pulled myself out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. Since I've been back home, I haven't really cared that much for self care and appearances. Not that I ever really did. I glanced up at myself in the mirror and cringed. Even though it had almost been two years since I had returned, I still had never gotten used to the scars that covered my body. Noticeable patches of different colored skin, flaky, dry, and disgusting; some of my hair had grown back, but it didn't fall the way it used to. I looked down shamefully and quickly disrobed, stepping into the shower and turning on the hot water. I closed my eyes and sighed as it poured over my fucked up body, wishing that for once, I could look at myself again and not feel ill.

My body was not the only thing that was scarred, and I accepted this. Even though the war was over, and things had become substantially better for the world, it wasn't the same. Not without Prim, my little sister whose smile could always bring me the tiniest bit of happiness. Whose blond hair and fair skin were the epiphany of all that was beautiful. Until that image was blown to bits by the very people I called allies. I slipped and fell to my knees, trying so hard to keep my tears from joining the water below. I gripped my hair as hard as I could to stop myself and slowly stood up, refusing to give into the sorrow that tormented me daily.

I got out of the shower and walked to my wardrobe, throwing on a pair of slacks and a grey t-shirt. I walked downstairs and looked around the kitchen. The dishes were piled high and there were little black flies swarming around rotten and uneaten tidbits of food. The living room was no different. Piles of blankets were stashed around a couple of sofas for the times when I was restless and couldn't sleep. Dirty clothes littered the floor along with an assortment of whiskey, beer, and vodka bottles. My place was a mess, and I was becoming a slob. I let out a soft chuckle. To the normal onlooker my place looked a lot like Haymitch's.

Haymitch.

My eyes glazed over a bit as I thought about him. We hadn't spoken much since I had gotten back. Hell, I don't think we've ever had a real conversation. But that was alright. We were people of very few words. Maybe that was just part of our personalities, or because both of us had seen too much…

I shook my head. Regardless, I was grateful for his company on some occasions. When I felt too cooped up inside my house, I would visit him from time to time. He bought me illegal alcohol (the drinking age still being 21), and in turn, I gave him a drinking buddy. It was a fair trade. I glanced around the room one last time and decided it was one of those same days. Maneuvering my way around the dirty room I walked out and headed toward Haymitch's. It wasn't that far away, considering the victor's houses were in the same area. I looked around as I walked, trying to forget what this place looked like not too long ago - burning trees, clouds of smoke; the ashes of people flittering through the air directly into my lungs. Although my body wasn't a pretty sight, this thought would always be more sickening then the condition of my flesh.

I knocked once at his door and was surprised when he immediately answered. Usually it took four or five tries, considering he was almost always drunk or hung over. Or at this hour, sleeping. When I looked up at him, I took in the familiar sight – pale skin, strong jaw, the stubble on his face, and his tired, but still bright blue eyes. As I took in the last feature, I felt a little bad. I shuffled my feet.

"Sorry for stopping by so late…"

He looked down at me in concentration like he always did, with his jaw tight, and he shrugged.

"Whatever. I wasn't really in the mood for sleeping anyway. Come on in."

I nodded and stepped inside, taking a quick overview of his place. Yup, just as messy as mine. Nothing had changed. I smiled a little at this fact. He sat down in his big armchair and looked at me up and down as I just stood there.

"Do you want a drink?" He held up his glass and shook it invitingly at me, a small smirk gracing his lips.

"I have Spyritus, Bacardi, and Bushmills. Take your pick." I thought it over and sat on the couch opposite him.

"…Spyritus." He raised an eyebrow.

"You're not fucking around, are ya sweetheart? Alright. Glass of Spyritus, coming right up."

He grabbed a glass already full of ice and poured it in. My eyes narrowed.

"Already prepared, are you?" He smirked.

"I had a feeling you'd come knocking. This isn't the first time you've come by in the middle in the night." I rolled my eyes but he was right. It wasn't.

"Well…thanks anyway. For waiting for me, I mean. It's rare to see you so sober." I looked up at him, a small smirk crossing my lips. He shrugged his shoulders and poured himself a glass of the same liquor. He passed mine over and held up his own to me.

"Cheers." He leaned back in his chair and emptied it in one hit. I looked down into my own glass, staring at my reflection in the white liquid. I brought my knees up to my chest and emptied mine as well. I closed my eyes and winced as it went down my throat, leaving behind a burning sensation. In all honesty, I didn't particularly care for booze. In fact, I found it pretty disgusting. But it didn't matter, because it was the perfect way to make me forget all my troubles. So I drank consistently.

After I whipped my lips on the back of my hand, I got up and crawled over to where the bottle was at. As I started to pour myself another glass, Haymitch spoke up.

"You do know that's some really powerful stuff. Go easy on it, sweetheart." He said as he followed suit and instead poured himself another glass of generic beer. I propped my back up against the dresser the vodka was on and stared off blankly.

"I know. But I don't care." I finished it off in two gulps. I could feel his eyes on me as he shook his head.

"Look. Katniss. I know you've been a little under the weather since you and Peeta broke up but that doesn't mean –"My head snapped over in his direction and I glared up at him.

"Don't even think about bringing that up." I hissed at him menacingly. His eyes narrowed.

"You can try to avoid the subject all you want with me, sweetheart, but we both know it's on your mind." I scoffed at him and looked away. I was being childish, and I knew it. He was right. It was one of the reasons I drank so constantly, and he knew it. He knew me better than I liked to admit.

"…I can't believe they're gone, both of them." It seemed just like yesterday when Gale decided he couldn't deal with his guilt and left for district 2. Not long after that, Peeta left for district 11. When it came to Gale, I knew I could never forgive him, and was actually kind of grateful he left. Though it still hurt to know that my long time friend could leave me so easily; I doubt he would ever return and this hurt me more than he would ever know. But Peeta - sweet and kind Peeta. The fault was my own. Even after all that he had done for me, I had pushed him aside. I had convinced myself over and over again that it wasn't my fault; that I was just too fucked up for him. But at times, I wondered what things would have been like if I had put the past behind me and actually tried to be happy with him. In the end, I just couldn't. I drove him away with my seclusion and harsh words, and before I could even say I was sorry, he was gone. And that's just the way it was. This was my stupid, pathetic, fucked up life that I couldn't seem to escape from, except at the end of a bottle, just like him - the man who at this moment was staring at me intently, never once breaking his gaze. I looked away again.

"…it doesn't matter. There's nothing I can do now." He nodded slowly and took another drink out of his cup. I looked back up at him and forced a smile.

"Mind if I have some of that?" I gestured to the beer next to the vodka. He nodded again, his lips pursed and his gaze emotionless. I grabbed it and poured myself yet another glass.

An hour passed and the world was beautiful again. The room seemed to buzz with life, spinning constantly, the colors blurring together. I giggled as I sat on the floor, staring up at Haymitch and his smug grin, he being completely hammered just as I was.

"Haaaymitch, pass the bottle?" I slurred. He looked down at me with annoyance.

"Katniss, you've asked that about a million times tonight, just grab the damn thing if you want it." I glared up at him a little, too drunk to argue with him. I tossed my empty glass aside and staggered over to the bottle.

"Fine, but I don't think that's such a good idea –"Sure enough, I tripped on air and tumbled drunkenly into the table, knocking over the last vodka bottle onto Haymitch. I knew I should have felt bad, but I didn't. I just fell over giggling hysterically as I looked up at him. He merely glared at me and sighed, looking down at himself.

"Well that's just fuckin' great…" He shook his head, looking at me as I just rolled on the floor. Even in this state, I could tell he was trying hard to repress a smile, and this in turn, made me smile.

"Get up. You're bonkers, you know that?" I giggled.

"Yeah, but you loooooove me, don't deny it." I said, giving him a taste of his own medicine with that word. His smile slowly faded and I could have sworn I saw him blush. I instead passed it off as the effects of the alcohol. He looked at me up and down, and his smirk returned.

"You might want to check your clothes." I looked down at myself and noticed for the first time that I was wet. In the process of knocking over the bottle onto him, it had fallen to the ground and spilt liquid all over the floor. The floor I was just rolling around in.

"Oh." I blushed and glared down at myself due to my negligence and swatted at my clothes in vain. It was no good. They were completely soaked. We were both in a predicament. When I glanced up again I noticed that he was standing and was beginning to peel off his shirt. I blushed involuntarily, and couldn't help but stare as he pulled it off and revealed his surprisingly toned chest. He looked over at me and I immediately shifted my gaze to the wet floor, hoping he hadn't noticing me staring. I looked up a little as I noticed him extending a hand out towards me. I looked into his playful blue eyes and took his hand, letting him lift me up onto my feet.

"Looks like you're just as wet as I am." He chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah." I glared off to the side, my cheeks still bright red. I could feel his eyes on me still and this made me even more uncomfortable. But not in the way I thought it should. Although he was so much older than me, I couldn't deny that for his age, he was still very attractive. His shoulders were broad, he was thin despite his drinking habits, and the budging muscles that should have been long gone adorned his abdomen and arms. And although I was already standing, his hand still held mine. When I slowly looked up, I found him staring down at me with such an affectionate intensity it made my heart skip a beat. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

"Katniss…" I stared up into his beautiful blue eyes. The look in his eyes faded and I found myself wanting to call them back immediately. He swallowed hard.

"…You should get to bed." My body relaxed as he let go of my hand and turned away. I thought back to my own house, my own bed. And found that it didn't seem nearly as inviting as staying here with him.

"…If you don't mind, could I stay here instead…? Just for the night, of course…" He glanced over at me and nodded briefly as he walked over and sat back in his armchair, not giving a shit that his pants and chair were still wet. I sat down on the floor away from the puddle and looked down. I let my thoughts stay blank and let the alcohol ware off. I don't know how long I sat there, but when I finally looked up, Haymitch was fast asleep, snoring lightly. I suppressed a smile as I watched him, all his worries and pain seeming to disappear from his face as he slept. It was a nice change, and I appreciated his company more than ever. I forced myself to look away and shook my head, lightly massaging my temples as I felt a headache coming on. I stood up and plopped down on his sofa, staring up at the ceiling as I slowly but surely began to fall asleep. And in the middle of the night, when I floated back into that world of dreams and nightmares, I felt him enter my abyss. His rough hands sliding across my shoulders as he put a blanket over me. And just for an instant, I could have sworn his lips grazed my cheek, as I slowly melted back into my lake of sorrow.

_Hello all. As you can see on my page, I haven't written/added anything in a __**very**__ long time. So give me some credit, okay?_

_I've caught the Hayniss bug, and I intend to embrace it. I think Katniss and Haymitch understand each other perfectly, and although I am not against Katniss and Peeta, I think they make a better couple, don't you? I started writing this because there aren't many Hayniss stories here and I was very dissatisfied. So this is the result. The next chapters will be a lot longer; this was more of a…hmm…introductory chapter. I hope you all enjoy, please review, and give me your opinion and suggestions. Happy writing and lots o' love. _

_~Little-Miss-Cloudy-Day~_


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